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Gregori Gumen
Gregori Gumen is an original character created by the user Docpoptart. If possible, he may be bought in to the game, whenever DB2 commissions open, if they ever do, or LDB. Update Notes The weapons are done, and I'll try to do the backstory whenever I can. Did you think the backstory was going to be short? Too bad, it's over 3 pages long on a google docs, and it almost doubled the length of this page. I might rewrite parts of the backstory and change his moveset (for the 3rd time now...) Personality will be done in a few days, and the pose will be done later. A quick look at the completed Bonestaff. Erecura's model. Appearance Gregori's skin is pure white, he dons a grey, unbuttoned lab coat with a violet vest, a black necktie, gold buttons, dark brown pants, black shoes, and a black belt. He dons a collar of large spikes around his neck, with colors ranging from black at the base, to lavender at the tip. His head is a white jack-o-lantern with a wicked grin, which has a purple light emanating from the inside, along with a brown stem. Personality Gregori tends to ignore most people, unless they're the kind of person he can tolerate, otherwise, he'll be focused on whatever he's doing at the moment. He tends to point out the flaws in someone's idea (if he's not ignoring them) until they either give up the idea, or just stop talking about it. He is essentially a smart-ass psychiatrist. Relationships Phel Brise Gregori tends to ignore Phel, unless she is giving him a job. Hacton Stolz Like the rest of Team Alba, Gregori ignores Hacton, as he views him as a dangerous psychopath bent on punching everyone, regardless of what they've done. Mason Victor Due to Mason being the head of the TAR&DD, Gregori has to actually listen to what he says, do what he asks, and so on. Jack Delphines Jack is one of the few people in Team Alba that Gregori doesn't ignore, as he is a colleague who has assisted him in his research multiple times. Erecura Gregori shares a symbiotic relationship with his grimoire. (Backstory will explain this when it's done.) Backstory WARNING: VIOLENCE, GORE, AND OTHER INAPPROPRIATE CONTENT AHEAD, READ UNLESS YOU'RE A FRIGGING 5-YEAR-OLD. Every man, woman, and child has dreamed of something fantastic, be it a unicorn, an ancient society, or an unlimited wellspring of knowledge. Almost everyone I’ve met decided not to chase after these dreams, as they think the dreams are just dreams and nothing more. My name is Alan Philips. I lived with my mother, Fiona Philips, and my father, Andra Philips. We lived in a simple home in Northeast Scotland. The outside of the house is made with light grey bricks, and it would look dull and simple, were it not for the garden, made up of myrica gale, gorse, and calluna flowers, as well as brownish red, dark grey, and speckled white rocks I have gathered in my spare time. The roof is a dark brown slate, which huddles up against the crimson bricks of the square chimney. The black lantern hangs over the boldly boorish brown door with a gorgeous, golden gleam, delighting anyone walking along the broken, bleak cobblestone path in the after hours. The windows were made of thin glass, lined with a chipped, red wood, and always bathed in the light of the stars. The inside of the house is much more different than the aging exterior; The walls are birch-wood, coated twofold in a wonderful wintry white. The floor is an enchanting hardwood with spiral remnants of rings in each perfectly placed piece. A silent, slick silver chandelier hangs above the kitchen table by a cold, carefully crafted chain, illuminating the house with its brilliantly simple golden, glowing gaze. The ceiling is a beautiful beige with remnants of paint jutting out like stalactites of color. The rest of the rooms repeat the same pattern: Wondrously wide wood floors, white walls, beige ceilings, and simple windows. I lived there for all twelve years of my life, playing, learning, sleeping, eating, and wandering off to the surrounding villages, but the day came for me to be shipped off to England to attend one of its famed high schools: Trinity High School. I spent four years of my life there, before attending college in order to obtain whatever degree I wish, although I have a particular fancy for the sciences. The days went by like minutes, the months like hours, and the years like days. Before I knew it, I was at the age of twenty-eight, and received my doctorate in Psychology. My fascination for the dream I had only grew more intense, with the university’s vast resources only furthering my dive into the deepest of mythological recesses which may have held the answer to my question, or maybe I found that there is no answer. I was hired as a psychiatrist to work at Lem’s Therapeutics. The pay was great, and the work wasn’t too stressful. The patients were usually simple oddballs, or self-diagnosed idiots trying to argue with me. One day, however, I came across a particularly strange patient, one the likes of which I had never seen before. He was a man of average build; One-hundred fifty-six centimeters, weighing around 90 kilograms, with unkempt, dark brown hair. The man retained a unique, horrific addition to his body: numerous, runic scars strewn about his body. Some look burned on, others look like they were added on through aggressive, constant cutting and goring. I had asked the man a simple question: “Where did you get your scars from?” he responded after a cold minute of silence “Th-th-th-the c-k-c-kelmics.” His stutter was clear, as well as his failure to pronounce letters. I asked him to repeat it, but to no avail, as he would take a minute each time, and only manage to say either “Ch-sh-ch-sherics”, or “L-e-a-celerics” I had gotten him a pen and paper, but his trembling only caused him to break the pen and pour the ink all over the paper. I told him to get some rest, and then talk to me in the morning. I had thought the rest would help, but it only allowed him to speak a bit clearer. I asked him once more, “Where did you get your scars from?” he responded thirty seconds later, stuttering out the words “Th-th-the c-c-celt.” ninety-percent done with his sentence, he suffered from a mixture of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder flashbacks, and a heart attack, killing him on the spot. While I did mourn his death, I did not shed tears, for I had figured out what he meant to say, and his torturers’ identities matched up with my dream. I returned home, and pulled up my pictures of his scars. I then matched the scars to the runes I had found in the numerous books of mythology I dug up in various libraries. For the next month, I used my various pieces of evidence gained by snooping around and planting bugs on multiple officers to investigate suspects on my own. I had found four suspects: Le’dere Ormea, Friscin Almander, Pino Cretea, and Elmin Benear. All of them met every night in a pub known as “The Wobbly Clover” to get drunk, devour food, and become generally intoxicated. One night, I had noticed something strange whilst tailing Le’dere; she had donned strange ornaments and earth green robes twice as large as her. She then shot a gaze in my exact direction, causing the surprise to punch me back, before her cohorts grabbed me and covered my mouth in a rag of chloroform. I awoke several hours later in the middle of two triangles intersecting, forming a small diamond in the middle. Each point had a tall torch, with a person restrained to it, including me. I was restrained before an unusual, iron pedestal with an abnormal book on top of it. The book was adorned with a leather belt with an iron buckle, three intersecting iron rings, and a wood-like, mid-brown frame. Le’dere, Friscin, Pino, and Elmin appeared, each one coated in similar amulets and jewelry, as well as earth green robes. Elmin seemed to lead them, but that was until a new, odd figure appeared, commanding the quadlets with a booming voice to head to a corner each, and prepare their daggers for the “ceremony”. The enigmatic being walked up to me and grinned whilst gazing into my eyes. I spat in the ignoramus’ eye, causing it to threaten me with its iron dagger, but I remained calm and straight-faced. It withdrew its dagger, and told the quadruplets to light the torches and carve the runes. For five hours, I had to listen to the blood-curdling screams of the other sacrifices, however I remained unharmed, for reasons unknown. The enigma got up close, and stared at me for several minutes, examining me. After four minutes, I bit out the ignoramus’ eye, spraying a crimson stream all over the pedestal, for he was foolish enough to venture close. It attempted to slice me once more, but stopped itself midway again. I gleefully chuckled as I spat its eye onto the ground and crushed it with my knee, enraging it even further. The ceremony was finished being set up, and the final act was ready to begin. The quadruplets drew their daggers and held them against the throats of the sacrifices, whilst the enigma unsheathed a serrated, rusted iron axe, in a pitiful attempt to quench its rage towards me. The five screeched maniacal gibberish. Before the axe cleaved my neck in twain, I uttered one simple phrase: “Fucking idiots.” I woke up once more a moment later, with the enigma horrified, and my hands clutching the book. The iron rings emitted a purple glow within their center, frightening the cultists. I looked around for an explanation, but only found my head rolling around. I screeched like a banshee in horror, not only at my rolling head, but also the unexplainable fact that I was indeed, alive. I heard another voice in my head, one I have never heard before. The voice was feminine, powerful, yet somewhat arrogant. “‘Kay, you’re alive ‘cause of me, GOT IT!?” the voice declared within my mind. I accepted this, and assumed that the voice was coming from the book. I nearly dropped it, only for a second, skeletal hand to burst out of my hand and retrieve it. I quickly figured out how to create and manipulate bones, summoning two fingers to pluck out the enigma’s remaining eye, two legs to break its knees, and a spine to strangle it whilst tearing off its robe. He was a bald man with a long, grey beard, and countless wrinkles. The voice then told me something else “My name’s Erecura. You know this already, but I can manipulate and create more of your existing bones, organs, and muscles. Now do you mind killing the rest of these people, or do I have to do it?” She didn’t give me a moment to think before causing eight giant spines to lunge out from my torso and pierce the stomachs of the sacrifices, and cultists. The sun rose on the gory aftermath of the sacrifice, magic-book awakening, and murdered cultists. I passed out from shock, exhaustion, and vomiting. When I awoke, I found a pumpkin on my head, a tattoo in the shape of the three rings on my chest, and bloody clothes. I headed back to my home, donning the old man’s hood. I grabbed whatever clothes I could find, and left. Where I went, I don’t remember, nor do I remember how long the trip was. I didn’t need to eat, anyways. I found myself in Italy, and stumbled upon a mafia, and heard of a mafia in Germany they were planning to assault. They noticed me, and immediately shot at me, however, I simply slapped away the bullets and shot them all with fingers. My goal was clear: head for Germany. I thought that, maybe the rumored mafia would introduce me to a world in which a headless man could thrive. Nearly three months had passed before I made it to Germany. I had destroyed over thirty mafia-owned bars, killed thousands of mafiosos, and failed to drink 100 liters of scotch. I finally arrived at my destination: The Alba Casino. I asked a blackjack dealer if I could join the mafia, and before I could finish my sentence, muffled my face, and took me into the “Dealer Break Room”, he then directed me to a man named “Cle Verargert”. I found the man, he interviewed me heavily, inserting a few unsettling remarks here and there, and then allowed me to join the division I had requested: Research and Development. I was told I would take orders from the leader of the mafia, Phel Brise, and the head of R&D, Mason Victor. Nearly a year later, I had gotten into a fight with Mason over something, forgot what, and so I launched a large humerus at him, only for him to blast it with everything his blasters had to show me the difference between me and him. Something strange happened, however. The bone was unphased, and didn’t disappear like most summoned bones did. I quickly grabbed it and labeled it the first name I could think of, which was “Bonestaff.” Ignoring Mason’s insults, I quickly implemented it into my fighting, bashing in many faces with the seemingly invincible bone. Two years later, the present. I am now a productive member of the Team Alba R&D division, I share a symbiotic relationship with a book, and I am an artificial dullahan. Moveset Upgrades # Increase health and the health granted by bones and blood drops. (+5% per point) # Decrease cooldowns slightly. (+1% per point) # Increase damage and lifesteal moderately. (+2.5% for damage, 1% for lifesteal, and yes, I mean it affects the percentage of lifesteal.) Benchmarks For those too lazy to do the math: 15/15/15 # Health increased to 525, health granted by bones increased to 88, health granted by blood drops increased to 131. # Cooldowns decreased by 15% (Saol Marfach's cooldown is now 13 seconds) # Damage increased by 37.5%, and lifesteal increased by 15%. (Meaning Déag pianta's first hit damage is now 206, while its lifesteal is now 12%, or 24.72 points of health) 50/50/50 # Doing these later; I need some sleep. Trivia * The move names are in a different language to try and sound like spells. * The Bonestaff will be worked on once Erecura is done, and it will hopefully be finished during Christmas Break. * His Grimoire's name is Erecura, which is another reference, although it's easy to find; you can just look it up. * Erecura's model can be found here: https://www.roblox.com/library/1310717496/Erecura Category:Male Characters Category:Non-Elemental Users Category:Users of Stratus Category:Team Alba